Chapter 7
The trial began six months later.
It was the trial of the century.
Every news outlet covered it.
Every day, cameras lined the courthouse steps.
I was the prosecution's star witness.
I sat on the stand for three days.
I told the court everything.
About the fraud.
About finding the evidence.
About the abuse I'd suffered my entire life.
About Emily Chen.
The defense attorneys tried to destroy me.
They called me a liar.
A gold digger.
A mentally unstable woman who'd fabricated everything to get revenge on her family.
They brought up my childhood.
Twisted it.
Made me look like the villain.
But I didn't break.
I told the truth.
Calmly.
Clearly.
And the jury believed me.
Madison testified too.
She told the court about our parents' cruelty.
About the way they'd treated me.
About the lies they'd told.
She didn't try to protect them.
She told the truth.
And it was powerful.
The most damning evidence was the recording.
When it was played in court, you could hear a pin drop.
My father's voice, cold and calculating, ordering a woman's death.
Logan's voice, agreeing without hesitation.
My mother's voice in the background, telling them to "make it look like an accident."
I watched the jury's faces.
I saw the horror.
The disgust.
The anger.
I knew then that it was over.
The trial lasted four weeks.
The jury deliberated for three days.
When they came back, the courtroom was packed.
I held Madison's hand.
We sat together in the front row.
The foreman stood.
"On the charge of murder in the first degree..."
He looked at my father.
"We find the defendant guilty."
My father showed no emotion.
"On the charge of conspiracy to commit murder..."
He looked at Logan.
"We find the defendant guilty."
Logan paled.
"On the charge of being an accessory after the fact..."
He looked at my mother.
"We find the defendant guilty."
My mother started screaming.
She had to be dragged out of the courtroom.
The judge sentenced them to life in prison without the possibility of parole.
Life.
They would die behind bars.
Justice had been served.
But as I walked out of the courtroom, surrounded by reporters and cameras, I didn't feel victorious.
I felt empty.
All those years of anger.
All that pain.
All that desire for revenge.
And now that it was over, I just felt... tired.
Madison squeezed my hand.
"Are you okay?" she asked.
I looked at her.
My sister.
The only family I had left.
May you like
"I will be," I said.
And for the first time in a long time, I meant it.
